


This Day

by BoredRavenvlaw620



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chocolate... like LOTS of chocolate, Co-workers, Drunken Flirting, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredRavenvlaw620/pseuds/BoredRavenvlaw620
Summary: She pursed her lips, “ha bloody ha, I too have no date. But misery loves company, so we can get drunk together.”“Granger, I think you may be drunk already.”She waved him off as she drank more, “Potato, potahto. As long as I’m drunk, I hate this day.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 49
Kudos: 299
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	This Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotionChemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/gifts).



> This one’s for you PotionChemist! I hope you’ll accept my humble story as I have no chocolate... Draco and Hermione ate it all! 😜 HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! 
> 
> A million thanks and all the hugs and heart shaped chicken biscuits to my girl Mcal! She is always quick with encouragement and her positivity radiates throughout fandom. I know you put so much of yourself into helping others, and I’m humbled that you share that with we as well. I don’t know what I’d do without you to Alpha/Beta for me. 
> 
> (Please note all remaining mistakes are my own. Additionally, I’ve made no money from this story, I’m simply dabbling in the world and characters created by JKR)

* * *

**This Day**

February 13

It was the fifth time that day. The fifth time she had pulled open the middle left desk drawer to peak at the heart shaped box of chocolates. It had been an impulse purchase of the worst degree; the red box so familiar, yet so inadequate, its gold plastic ribbon a pale imitation.

Finally giving in she pulled the box from the drawer and broke the seal. The rich aroma of chocolate wafted up and filled her with memories of a time when she was privileged to bear witness to the love of the two most important people in her young life.

The legend—for it was with great dramatic license that he told the tale—went, that the fates aligned on a day most sacred to lovers and brought together two people so suited to each other that choruses of birds sang out and the heavens opened to bless their love.

The real story was that after knocking her mother over rushing to exit the Tesco, her father was promptly shit on by a flock of pigeons spooked in the commotion. The sudden rainstorm they were caught in was purely coincidence; much as the date, February fourteenth, Valentine’s Day.

But to Hermione’s father, it meant something. The eye rolls and playful scoffs from her mother were a ruse; she loved their meeting story just as much. And she loved the glorious boxes of chocolates she was gifted with every year on this day set aside to celebrate love. 

Hermione ran her hands over the sides of the box. Did Monica and Wendell Wilkins share the same soft glances, lingering touches, and whispered inside jokes as Stephen and Helen Granger? Did Wendell pour over the selections of chocolates from Aldi the way her father carefully considered the rich velvet boxes at Marks and Spencer? Did Monica read card after card to try and find the one that expressed her love only to give up and compose her own poetry? Perhaps they didn’t exchange gifts.

With a deep sigh she replaced the lid on the box, but did not return it to the little used middle left desk drawer. She pushed the box to the side and tidied her workspace. Her papers stacked, ink capped and quill nestled; she tucked into her coat, summoned her hand bag and before she could change her mind, she gathered the bright red box to her chest. 

Her department was empty, the others having left at what they considered a reasonable hour. She walked slowly through the quiet halls; her heartbeats in sync with the click of her heels on the marble.

She boarded the empty lift car and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes to savor the moment of peace on her ride to the Atrium.

The lift sputtered and lurched, then that dulcet voice announced, “Level Two, Auror Offices.”

Hermione slumped in defeat, in her haste to leave she neglected to direct the lift to the atrium. The doors opened and Ron stepped inside. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Hermione.” He smiled his crooked grin, his eyes shining in genuine happiness to see her. 

“Good evening, Ron.” Her return smile, although tired, was easy and honest. Their ill-advised relationship was long past and they enjoyed a friendship that could only be born of their shared experiences.

Ron’s eyes brightened as he spotted the box hugged to her chest. “Is that chocolate you have there?” His tone laced with false innocence.

“Yes.”  _ Goodbye chocolates. _

He grinned that boyish grin, his face glowing with excitement, his hand reached toward the box as if pulled by an unseen force. “Do you think… maybe… I could…”

Sighing in defeat she opened the box to proffer a chocolate to Ron.

She should have known better. The lift was only beginning to close as he stuffed two of the lovely confections into his mouth groaning in satisfaction. 

“Ron, please…” Hermione begged at the same time a pale, long-fingered hand stopped the closing door of the lift revealing Draco Malfoy. 

“Indeed, Weasley, please… stop whatever ill-mannered thing you’re doing.”

Ron gulped down the chocolates. “She offered, Malfoy. Get your own friends.” By this time, Ron had taken the box from her hands and was helping himself to the rest. 

The lift doors opened to the Atrium and the forlorn look on her face was lost on the likes of Ron Weasley as he closed the box and handed the empty vessel back to Hermione. “Thanks, Mione. You’re the best.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, a smear of chocolate remaining in his wake.

Ron strode out of the lift and gave a jovial wave as he was sucked through the Floo network. 

Hermione wiped her cheek with her hand, her posture limp as she trudged to the Floos.

Draco watched her stuff the empty box in a bin along the way, and as she spun into the network, he thought he saw her wipe a tear from her eye.

* * *

February 14

The Leaky Cauldron was only lightly busy tonight. She figured everyone had  _ fancy, romantic plans. Well screw them, she was going to get drunk. _

“Good evening, Hannah,” Hermione chirped as she reached the bar. Hannah, always genial, returned her greeting with a smile. “One bottle of your finest firewhisky please.” 

“The whole bottle? Hermione are you sure?” 

Hermione placed her money on the counter and accepted the bottle from Hannah’s limp, reluctant hand—her galleons were good and if she wanted to get shit faced drunk, that was her business. 

She spun away from the bar and collided with another patron. Looking up, she shook her vision into focus, “Well if it isn’t Draco Malfoy. How are you, you grumpy son-of-a-bitch?”

“Granger?”

Her brow wrinkled in consideration. “Are you here alone?” 

An uncertain noise came from his mouth and Hermione took that for the affirmative. Grabbing a fist full of Draco’s shirt, she dragged him to a booth.

Too stunned to protest, Draco sat frozen as Hermione waved to Hannah for an extra glass.

She filled the tumblers with a bit too much firewhisky, but Draco pulled his toward him and took a tentative sip.

Hermione downed half the glass in one go.

“I figured you’d be all loved up with some socialite princess in your Manor tonight.” 

He shook his head, “No thank you to the socialite princesses, and I stay away from the Manor on Valentine’s Day.”

She raised her eyebrows in question, taking another sip from her whisky.

“My parents tend to celebrate very…  _ traditionally _ .” He grimaced before cleansing the thought with a swallow of his drink. 

She hummed into her tumbler. “Lucius chases Cissa around with a bloodied strip of goat hide slapping her in the arse with it?”

Draco choked on his drink.

Hermione nodded earnestly and gestured toward him with her glass, “I would stay away too.”

Draco coughed, “No,” he pounded his chest to clear his airway, “nothing like that. They just tend to shag in the most random places.”

Hermione sighed. “I might not get on with your parents, but I think that’s beautiful.” Draco looked concerned. “You know… loving someone so much you  _ have  _ to have them right then and there.”

“Whatever you say, Granger, you’ve not had to see Lucius’s arse cheeks flap as he  _ has  _ my mother over the entryway credenza.” He shivered in disgust, she sprayed her drink across the table. 

She had the grace to look sheepish as he dabbed the moisture with an embroidered handkerchief.

“And you?” He asked as she took a daintier sip of her drink. “I figured you’d be hidden away in a bookstore with some boring sod, reading passages from historical texts.”

She pursed her lips, “ha bloody ha, I too have no date. But misery loves company, so we can get drunk together.”

“Granger, I think you may be drunk already.” 

She waved him off as she drank more, “Potato, potahto. As long as I’m drunk, I hate this day.”

“Well, it’s a bloody lame excuse for a holiday if you ask me.”

“Oh, you think I hate Valentine’s Day?”

He nodded, the encapsulating warmth of the whisky enveloping his senses as he relaxed into the conversation.

“No,” she sighed, “I don’t hate Valentine’s Day. I just hate  _ this  _ day.”

“And what was so bad about  _ this  _ day?”

Hermione growled at the memory of Ronald haphazardly shoving her chocolate into his mouth. “Work was a lost cause today–everyone all twitterpated over this holiday–my favorite quill broke, the canteen was out if the almond croissants I love… oh… and I had no chocolate.” She grumbled.

“Those croissants are delicious, but what’s this about chocolate?” Then the light of recognition shown in his eyes. “Because Weasley took yours?”

Her lips twisted at the memory. “Yes, that was yesterday. But it didn’t help today since I had  _ no  _ chocolate.”

“And chocolate is, of course, the primary purpose for this manufactured holiday.”

Her laugh rang out over the barroom. Draco noticed several heads turn toward them.

“You’re funny when you’re not being a miserable asrehole.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Granger.”

She snorted into her drink, “I’ll allow it.”

After that, they sat sipping their firewhisky in companionable silence as the activity of the bar buzzed around them.

* * *

The bottle of firewhisky was empty. 

Hermione closed one eye, then the other, watching Malfoy’s position shift ever so slightly to her perception. His gaze was far away as he watched the other patrons, paying the drunk woman across from him no mind.

He was brought to attention when Hermione slapped the table and announced, “Well, I’m off, Malfoy.” She stood, and closing one eye to try and point her unsteady finger at him said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She laughed at her joke as she stumbled toward the Muggle London exit.

As the blast of cold London winter hit her in the face she was pulled back by a gentle hand on her upper arm. Looking over her shoulder she found Draco steadying her; his eyes glassy from the alcohol. “I can’t let you go out there like this.”

Stepping back, she linked their arms and dragged him onto Charing Cross road. “Then come with me.” 

They tripped over each other for two blocks before Hermione pulled Draco to a stop and hailed a cab. 

Dragging him into the back seat, she gave the driver her destination. 

The car weaved through the busy London streets causing Hermione to sway to and fro across the back seat. Draco endeavored to keep his eyes forward, lest the intense rocking render him ill.

He was mercifully saved from the motion sickness when the car pulled up to the curve. He was not, however, saved from one Hermione Granger sliding into his lap, climbing over him to exit the vehicle.

The lights from inside the store glowed around her as she bounced on the balls of her feet, calling his name to hurry.

Grabbing him by the arm she dragged him through doors that opened as if by magic; the force of her insistence preventing Draco from investigating.

She was chattering along as she pulled him down the aisles until she stopped in front of a large red and pink display.

Releasing him, she bent to consider her options. “Let’s see… am I in the mood for salted caramel or would I rather have a bit of variety?”

“Granger, did you drag me all this way just for some candy?”

“Oh, fudge truffles—what? Oh, well… Ronald took mine. And I want more.”

He motioned for her to carry on and occupied himself by browsing the plushies displayed around him. One in particular caught his eye.

“All right, I’m ready.”

Draco looked at the petite witch, her arms laden with boxes of candy and her eyes still bright with the haze of firewhisky. “Lead the way, my lady.”

She giggled and stumbled her way to the check stand. The clerk gave Draco a questioning look as he scanned box after box of chocolates. Granger hummed happily as her purchase was packaged, and was so intent on diving into one of the selections she failed to notice Draco purchasing the soft plushie.

Pulling him back onto the sidewalk, she ushered him a quick block away and into an alley. Pulling him close, she giggled, holding her finger to her lips, shushing him, the sound echoing between the buildings. This only caused her to giggle more. 

In her amusement she stumbled and Draco righted her holding firm to her upper arms. Her placid face looked up into his. “Destination, deliberation, and—”

“Granger, wait!” But he was too late, “Determination!” She shouted and they were sucked into the ether with a crack.

The squeezing sensation lasted but a moment as they landed in the middle of Granger’s sitting room, both falling to the sofa.

Draco had the wherewithal to check that neither were splinched, as Granger giggled madly into her sofa cushions. Draco slumped back in relief to see that in their inebriated state they had successfully apparated.

“I don’t know why I insist on wearing these torture devices everyday?” Hermione kicked, her high heels flying across the room to thump against the wall. 

In her now stockinged feet she shimmied across the rug and with a two or three imprecise flicks of her wand music filled the air.

Tossing her work blazer to the floor she untucked her shirt, “I’m sure there’s some wine in the cupboard. I’m going to get more comfortable,” she called as she danced from the room. Draco’s eyes trailed after her as her hair spilled loose from its pins and a tantalizing glimpse of shoulder peeked out before he was brought back to himself by the slam of her bedroom door.

Rubbing his palms over his eyes, he leaned back into the sofa. “What have I got myself into?”

“Mroww.” 

He jumped, but the orange beast before him only licked it’s paws in disinterest. “I remember you. I can’t believe she still has you.”

Crookshanks bathed his moistened paw over his head. Leaning forward Draco offered his hand for the feline to appraise.

Now clad in leggings and a oversized Hogwarts sweatshirt she was sure she stole from one of the Weasley boys, Hermione reentered the living room to find Crookshanks fervently butting his head against Malfoy’s hand, his purring audible above the music.

“And what’s this?” She called amused at the site of the two most cantankerous entities she knew bonding.

Crookshanks jumped from his perch on the sofa to wind himself around her legs before flouncing off toward her bedroom. “He’s very picky about people usually. He must sense a kindred spirit in you,” she teased.

Draco sent her a half-hearted glare as she came around the sofa asking, “Where’s the wine?”

With his eyes on the tip of her shoulder revealed by the slouchy sweatshirt he didn’t answer.

“Malfoy!” 

He jerked his gaze back to hers, his distraction evident “I’ll get it.” She waved him off. “ _ Accio _ wine!” 

The green bottle wobbled its way toward her, she steeled herself, tongue between her teeth to catch it. She missed.

Gasping she made to reach for it again when she found herself sprawled beneath a large warm body.

Draco looked at her sheepishly. “I got the wine.”

Placing the bottle on the coffee table, he pushed off of her and assisted her from the floor. 

Their bodies met as she sprung to stand. She watched him with an open expression as his eyes scanned the planes of her face. She registered that her palms were pressed into his firm chest. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

Grasping the lapels of his jacket she drew it open and down his arms. He was quite pliant as she tossed the garment thither. “You should make yourself more comfortable.”

He was frozen in her grasp as she pulled his tie loose, it going the way of his jacket. The tail of his shirt was freed from his trousers and then deft hands released the top three buttons of his shirt; the pads of soft fingers exploring the skin beneath.

Draco brushed an errant curl from her cheek to tuck it behind her ear as her hands traveled to the fourth button. “Hermione,” he stilled her hand with his, “I think that’s adequate.” She blushed and spun away busying herself opening the wine and chocolates.

Draco sat heavily on the sofa rubbing his face, the numbness of the alcohol cradling his confusion. He felt the cushion dip beside him as Hermione sat offering him a glass of wine.

“What’s your poison, Malfoy?”

Draco shook off the odd feeling as he took a sip of wine, raising his eyebrows in question behind the rim of the glass.

“The chocolate? Which one do you want?”

Draco surveyed the table; heart-shaped boxes covered the surface, each one filled with glossy confections. “Oh, ladies first, I insist,” and he gestured toward the boxes.

She smiled, but turned away before she could receive his answering one, as her hand hovered over the grids of sweets before finally plucking one and bringing it to her lips.

That first bite was perfection; the caramel center sticky on her teeth and the bite of the salt cutting through the sweetness just so as the the earthy chocolate enveloped her tongue. She groaned. Draco clenched his fist, but composed himself enough to choose one of his own.

His lips surrounded the morsel and he bit in. He promptly spat it into his hand. “What in the name of Merlin was that? Orange?” He took a deep pull from the wine, grimacing at the terrible pairing while vanishing the offending treat from his hand amid her laughter.

“I don’t mind the fruit-filled ones so much, but you can have all the nougat.” She selected another and flopped back as she ate it. “So Malfoy, why no date tonight?”

“I wouldn’t say,  _ no date,  _ seeing as I’m with you at the moment.” He winked. She blushed.

“Oh, is this a date? I don’t remember being asked.” She looked at him in challenge as she slipped another truffle between her teeth.

“Ah, my mistake then,” he took a deep breath and an even deeper sip of wine before picking up a caramel filled square. “I’ll be sure to get my bid in early next year.” He hummed as he savored the tidbit.

Hermione cleared her throat and mumbled, “See that you do.” Noticing the hint of a smile gracing his lips behind his glass.

They enjoyed a few moments of companionable silence as they ate chocolates and drank wine. Hermione swayed to the music and Draco watched her rhythmic back and forth his head following hers. With a start, she shot upright and slapped him on the arm, breaking his trance; her eyes sparkling with the haze of drunkenness and inspiration.“I know, let’s play a game. Worst Valentine’s date.”

“What will I win?” Draco asked.

“When  _ I  _ win,” she teased. “You have to take me to a bookstore of my choosing and follow patiently as I browse, minimum of two hours.”

Draco scoffed, “When I win you have to bring me tea and almond croissants for a week.”

Turning to sit cross-legged on the sofa, she extended her hand for him to shake. “You first then.”

“Oh, no, this was your idea, you go first.”

“Very well. Three years ago Cormac McClaggen took me to a Quidditch game on Valentine’s Day. Not my first choice, but he seemed enthusiastic. After the game we ran into Victor. I went home alone.”

“Victor…  _ Krum _ ?”

“One and the same.”

“You mean to tell me you are responsible for that relationship?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say  _ responsible _ exactly, but unwittingly instrumental.”

His chuckle was deep, “Hermione Granger, matchmaker to the stars.” She gave a little bow. “Beat that, pretty boy.”

“As it so happens, while you were helping those two find love, I was forced to go on a date with a woman named… ” He looked off waving his hand to summon the memory of her name, “who can remember, but the point is, I wasn’t there by choice.

“She spent three quarters of an hour explaining her nail care routine to me, and excused herself to the ladies when I only nodded. She did not return for twenty blissful minutes. When she did, it was to inform me that she would be leaving with our waiter.”

“Ouch, passed over for the help.”

“She wasn’t for me and they seemed happy, besides, my cuticles have never looked better.” Holding out his hand for inspection, she conceded that, indeed, his cuticles were of envious quality.

“I expect a croissant on my desk first thing tomorrow,” He declared before taking a smug sip of his wine.

She drew herself up in protest. “Now wait just a moment. I see no clear winner. Our dates both left with other people, and besides, I didn’t even get nail care tips.”

“Round two it is then?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Holding up a finger in pause, she reached for another chocolate. Draco shifted toward her slinging his arm over the back of the couch.

“So we’re back for ‘eighth year’, right?” He nodded, he’d been there. It was awkward, but he was around. “Ron didn’t return to school, he was already in Auror training, but he was going to come up and take me out.” She leveled a glare at Draco, “Before you say anything, he is still my dear friend, ill-advised attempt at dating aside. Anyway, he’s taking me for a quiet day in Hogsmeade, just us. Long story short, I am apparently allergic to the perfume scented air at Madam Puddifoot's.”

“So your eyes watered and you sneezed a bit… I’m going to enjoy my croissants.”

“Oh, hush, you, I’m not through. Ron was so intent to finish all the biscuits he’d paid for before he helped me back to the castle, he choked and needed the Heimlich.  _ He  _ almost died. We spent the rest of the day in the infirmary. It’s where we decided we were better as friends.”

Shaking his head, Draco muttered “Of course Weasley would be easily taken out by a biscuit, imagine if one of the criminals we were chasing wielded a hoagie instead of a wand.”

Even through his muttering, Hermione heard him. Biting her lip to hide her smile was unsuccessful if his smug grin was any indication.

“Let’s hear yours then.”

Rubbing his hands together, he drew a chocolate into his fingers and popped it into his mouth, “All right,” he spoke once he swallowed, “Do you remember Daphne Greengrass?” She nodded. “My parents ordered me on a date with her younger sister, Astoria, during eighth year. She was still in fifth, so quite a difference at the time.”

Hermione munched on another chocolate, her eyes following his finger as it ringed the top of his wine glass.

“Since this is our parents attempting to arrange a marriage, we met at her parents estate. Tea was standard and boring, but what happened after… ”

His pause for effect worked as intended, Hermione’s eyes were wide and she leaned in. “So after tea, her mother pulls a four inch tall bound book from beneath her chair and proceeds to plan my wedding to her insipid daughter.”

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. “I was so shocked that I didn’t say a word until the tailor’s tape was measuring my inseam.”

Her laugh broke free. “What did you do then?”

“I said, ‘No thank you,’ and just ran.”

There was silence for all of two seconds before they both broke into fits of laughter. Finally, wiping the mirth from her eyes, Hermione conceded, “I’ll give it to you. That was a pretty bad Valentine’s Day.”

“And you weren’t even privy to the Howlers I received for weeks after. That was a special joy.”

Eating yet another chocolate Hermione conceded, “I know when I’ve been bested. You will have your croissants.”

“And my tea. Do not forget my tea. One sugar and a splash of milk.”

“As you wish, my lord.” She sighed as she flopped back on the sofa. “But seriously? Marriage? After one date?”

“Oh, I’m sure they would insist on a respectable period of courtship, but yes, the promise of marriage after one date. The parental set-up. It’s another reason I avoid the Manor most days, not just Valentine’s day.”

“I must admit, I’m glad you were avoiding it today. This has been a pretty great day.” She sighed as her head lolled.

He reached over pushing a curl off her cheek; a hum on his lips as his fingers brushed the curve of her face. “I thought you hated this day?”

“Not so much anymore.” The wine made her eyes heavy as she sank into the cushions. Draco leaned back into the sofa gazing at nothing. The room was still and comfortable; the smell of chocolate and wine hung in the air as Hermione drifted off.

* * *

The music was still playing. Hermione could not place the song exactly, but her body seemed to float into the waves of rhythm surrounding her.

She loved these dreams; time and space had no meaning, there was just light and sound and… Draco. 

He was so close. She could put her arms around him. She  _ should _ put her arms around him. 

He was solid and warm, and so gentle. But where was he going? Reaching out for him she called, “Stay. Stay with me. Hold me.”

Cuddling back into his warmth she let herself fall deeper. Sound and color swirled around her as she nestled into a clouded haze. A soft brush on her face left a pleasant tingle in its wake. She hummed in pleasure, “Draco,” she whispered once again before she floated away.

* * *

The light from her bedroom windows was painful. Trying to sit up, Hermione grasped her temples as her pulse reverberated through her skull. She flopped back to the pillow, giving it up for a bad job.

Rolling away from the light she saw it; sitting on her bedside table was a bright blue vile of what looked to be a hangover potion. After easing herself to sitting she uncorked the bottle and wafted the scent toward her; she was met with the tell tale peppermint and charcoal essence… and was that a hint of chamomile? 

Draco.

He always did have a way with potions.

The effect was instantaneous. Her vision was clearer, the light through the window returned to the pleasant early morning hue she so loved, and most importantly, her head no longer pounded like a snare drum.

With a sigh of relief she swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to prepare for another day of work, but stopped at the tableau before her. A soft brown plushie was nestled on her bedside table. In her haste to inspect and consume the hangover potion she must have missed it. 

Picking it was she brushed her fingers over the velvet covering; it was an otter. A perfect red rose was resting in its grasp and embroidered on its pleasantly plump belly was the phrase,  _ You Otter be my Valentine. _

She bolted from the bed. 

Efficient woman that she was, her morning ablutions were a science and an art, and she was out her front door with time to spare. Chocolate wrappers drifted along the floor much to Crookshanks’ delight as his mistress hurried from the flat.

* * *

The Ministry Atrium was quiet and subdued; a late night celebrating with sweethearts she reckoned, but Hermione stepped with her usual aplomb. Her foot tapped as she waited in line at the canteen. Finally, purchase in hand she rushed toward the lifts.The crowded lift car shot up, back, forward, sideways, but after much jostling, level two was announced. Stepping off into the busy Auror floor, she hoped she could make it to Draco’s office without interruption.

She was so close. So. Bloody. Close.

“Hey, Hermione. Whatcha got there?” Ron rocked back on his heels as he eyed the brown bag in her hands. 

Hermione hugged the bag to her chest. Ron’s eyes glazed over in food lust as he reached for the bag. “These are not for you, Ronald,” she admonished, swatting his hand like a child.

He curled his hand to his chest, rubbing away the sting. “All right, all right, don’t get so testy. I’ll just go to the canteen.” He leaned in giving her a quick peck on the cheek and ambled toward the lift.

Looking up, Draco was watching her from his desk; the corners of his mouth in an epic battle between smirk and smile. It was all the invitation she needed.

“I got your croissant,” she offered as she crossed the threshold.

He rose from his chair and came around the desk and relieved her of the bag, placing it on the desk. “Thank you, Granger.”

“You won fair and square after all.”

Hands deep in his pockets he nodded, taking a step closer to her. “Although you forgot my tea.” 

“So I did.” She shrugged stepping into his space, her eyes transfixed on his. “Perhaps I can offer you an alternative?”

He inched closer, withdrawing a hand from his pocket to push a curl behind her ear; said hand continuing its exploration into the depths of her tresses as he pulled her closer. He merely raised an eyebrow and began to lean in, when she turned her attention to the handbag in her grasp.

“Oh where did it go?” she grumbled to herself as she rooted around in the depths of her bag. He chuckled at the sight of her shoulder deep in her small handbag. “Ah ha!” she proclaimed as she pulled her arm free.

Reluctantly removing his hand from her curls, he took the gift. It was a plush, purple, dragon. It’s wings were the shape of hearts, and it held a plush heart that read,  _ You really light my fire. _

Her smile was beaming as he grinned down at the googly-eyed dragon. Stepping more into his space, Hermione placed her hands on his chest. He laid the dragon aside and pulled her closer by her waist, his other hand resuming its position in her hair. 

They stared at each other like fools as he ran his fingers through her tresses, and she laced her hands at the back of his neck.

“Would you two just kiss already so the rest of us can get back to work?” Their heads shot to the still open doorway and one very amused Harry Potter.

Draco smirked and pulled Hermione more firmly into his hips. She squeaked. He teased,“As you wish Potter,” and with a lazy flick of his wrist the door slammed shut.

Taking a deep breath, Draco tilted his head and pressed his lips to Hermione’s. She sighed and allowed his arms to support her weight as she melted into him.

The hair on his nape was downy as her fingers brushed over it and his grip on her waist was commanding and comforting. His lips pillowed against hers, lightly sucking on her bottom lip before he pulled back.

Pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes still closed, he took a deep breath before he spoke, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Hermione.”

She giggled and his eyes opened at the sound. “It’s not Valentine’s day anymore.”

He shrugged. “You are, of course, correct. But  _ this day _ … this day I want to remember.” 

Whatever clever retort she may have had was lost to another kiss. A kiss that only ended when Harry Potter burst through the office door, stacks of files levitating behind him. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get back to work shall we?”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day, all! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think in the comments and kudos. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Once again... thank you to Mcal. You help make writing a joyful experience.


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